Finding Wonderful
by SilentG
Summary: Goren's afraid Nicole was right… a normal life isn't for him. During the season of miracles, three unhelpful Christmas imps help him decide for himself. Ch. 4 earns the M rating & then some.
1. BOY WONDERS

**Author:** SilentG  
**Title:** Finding Wonderful  
**Fandom:** LO:CI  
**Pairing:** B/A  
**Rating:** M  
**Spoilers:** Not really.  
**Archive:** Anywhere – no need to ask – just attribute, and let me know if possible  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Summary:** Goren's afraid Nicole was right… a normal life isn't for him. During the season of miracles, three unhelpful Christmas imps help him decide for himself. Ch. 4 earns the M rating & then some.

**A/N 1:** This is a fic for the ci_fans_unite livejournal community Xmas fic-a-thon. My prompt was "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year". The song seems a bit ironic, so the fic is angsty but with a happy ending. Chapter 4 is very M. The sequel to this fic is already up on … it's called "Kiss Me Kate".

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER ONE: BOY WONDERS**

_She looked so beautiful tonight._ Alex was sparkly, both inside and out, flushed and smiling and laughing out loud. Bobby sat by the Christmas tree watching her, the buzz and hum of her family and the eggnog not fully muting the two intrusive thoughts hammering him: One, _he was in love with Alex_; and Two, _he didn't think he was cut out for this_.

**o.o.o.o.o**

"Hey, I think I'm going to go, um, head over to Jim an Angie's." Bobby stood in the kitchen behind Alex with his hands discreetly on her waist. He felt her strain to turn in his arms, then stop herself… their relationship was new, and they weren't exactly trumpeting it from the rooftops; both of them were a bit cautious, a bit hesitant, although to Bobby's surprise, Alex seemed more at ease with the idea of… _them_… than he was. That notwithstanding, to Alex's family and friends, he was there as her partner and friend only, not as her (almost) lover.

"Oh. OK," she said in her husky voice that made his cock twitch. They'd been going very slowly with the physical part of their intimacy; Bobby'd not yet been inside her. He hadn't wanted to go that far until they were both sure. Alex seemed very willing, eager even, but he… well, he wasn't sure.

They'd discussed going to Jim and Angie's after the early Christmas Eve dinner at her parents' house – Bobby hadn't particularly wanted to visit his former boss at such a busy time, but he'd known he'd need a way out of Alex's family gathering. There was no way around it: he didn't like her family, and he felt deeply uncomfortable around them.

Why? He'd asked himself many times. It wasn't only that they mostly weren't terribly keen on him, or that his need to avoid doing anything to earn their ire exhausted him. If he were honest, it pricked him to be faced with something that Alex needed so much, that she fitted into so easily. And yet… not. He was uneasy in the face of the compromises she seemed to make on a regular basis to fit in and avoid conflict, particularly with her siblings and their spouses. She seemed both more and less herself in their presence.

"Um, OK. Will I see you later?" She'd pulled away from him and turned. Her face was upbeat and carefully neutral, but he knew she was disappointed. And worried. Truthfully, he'd given her reason to be insecure about her place in his life; and he couldn't reassure her, not right now.

"Probably not." He looked away as she nodded stoically. "I think I'll just head back to my place. I'll see you tomorrow or maybe Saturday. OK?"

"OK. Drive carefully." Her wistful voice followed him as he turned away.

**O.O.O.O.O**

"Bobby, there you are! I've been looking all over for you." Jimmy Deakins clasped Bobby around the shoulders and laughed in his ear; the ex-Captain's cheeks were rosy, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. "Brenda, this is Robert Goren. The best investigator I've ever known. I call him every month with a job offer, but he'd rather work for the Eff .Bee. Eye." Jimmy paused to laugh again, and Bobby stood and extended a hand to the lovely Brenda. "Brenda's the head of Legal at the firm; I've been wanting to get you two together for ages."

Bobby smiled as he shook her hand. "Very nice to meet you, Brenda."

Jimmy and Angie's party was in full swing even though it was only 8:30, and the booze was flowing like water in the hot, crowded atmosphere. Jimmy was buzzed, but Bobby had switched to cranberry and soda after one drink. His arrival at the party had caused quite a stir, and he'd been paraded around with all the pomp of a prodigal son. Jimmy's family was still happy, healthy and beautiful, and he'd enjoyed meeting the older man's friends and colleagues.

"It's great to finally meet you too, Robert. Believe me, you're a celebrity at the office; everyone knows all about your exploits."

Bobby felt very flattered, and charmed. It made him feel good to know that his old friend and boss still thought so highly of him, and having his beautiful co-workers gushing over him like this wasn't bad either. "Um, thanks Brenda. It really wasn't much, we were just doing our jobs."

Jimmy left them alone, muttering something about mingling. Bobby chatted pleasantly with Brenda a bit more, fetching them both fresh drinks and following her to a quiet corner of the living room. Bobby found himself looking at his watch. 9:30. What was Alex doing? He thanked Brenda for the pleasant conversation and went to find his old Captain.

**o.o.o.o.o**

"So, whaddayathink?"

Bobby was sitting in one of the comfortable club chairs in Jimmy's office, nursing a Glenlivet just to be polite. He was glad of the quiet, and of the opportunity to really talk to his old boss. He held Jimmy Deakins in very high regard, and he realised after he got here tonight that Jimmy was exactly the person he needed to speak to, to try to work out the conflicting thoughts and feelings that were hindering him from going any further with Alex. After a few minutes of shooting the breeze, he'd felt ready to broach the subject.

"About what?" Bobby chuckled a bit as he asked. Jimmy was definitely buzzed, rambling a bit in their conversation, and demonstrating a slightly skewed remembrance of some of their adventures at 1PP.

"Brenda." Jimmy punctuated her name with a wagging of his eyebrows.

"She's… nice. She's very, um, nice."

"I'm glad you made it tonight. She's been wanting to meet you for a while."

"Undoubtedly because you led her to believe that I single-handedly fought corruption and kept the entire 5 boroughs safe." Bobby was flattered, but a little bit irked, by the intimation.

"Only because it was true."

He shook his head. "You know it wasn't."

Jimmy rambled on. "I gave her your number, but I think she'd like you to call her."

"Call?" He was genuinely confused for a second. "Who?"

Jimmy grinned. "Brenda. Isn't that who've we've been talking about this whole time?"

Yeah, it was. And now he'd be able to broach the subject he'd really wanted to discuss with his former boss. 'Um thanks, Cap, er… But actually I'm – dating someone. Alex." It felt scary saying the words; in the weeks since their first overtures towards each other, their relationship had felt unreal to him. This was making it real.

"Alex?" Jimmy Deakins stared at him dumbly, not a shred of comprehension in his watery eyes.

Bobby shifted. "Eames. Alex Eames."

**o.o.o.o.o**

A half hour later, Bobby stumbled out of the Deakins's house, shaken. He hadn't even said goodbye to Angie, Brenda, or anyone. Brenda. He wasn't going to be calling her, and he admonished Jimmy in no uncertain terms to not encourage her to call him. He dearly hoped his former boss would remember.

He sat behind the wheel of his car, not trusting himself to drive, he was in such turmoil. The conversation with Jimmy had not gone the way he'd imagined.

"Alex Eames? Your partner? Why?"

Why? Of all the questions… "Well, um…" Bobby hadn't been prepared, and he choked on the words… _Because it's the only way anything makes sense. Because no-one else understands. Because it isn't that easy. Because we love each other._

"I mean I know you two were very tight, but… she just really never seemed your type."

What followed became more and more surreal. He'd expected to be berated by his old boss for sullying the pristine Alexandra Eames, for starting something his track record indicated he surely wouldn't be finishing. Instead he'd been told that he could do a lot better.

"The past few years have been hard for you, Bobby. I think you lost your way a bit." Bobby nodded… yes, he had. "Just because you lost your confidence for a while doesn't mean you need to…" In fairness to Jimmy, he hadn't actually said the word 'settle'. "I mean, during your good years, the kinds of women you dated – they were more like…" _Brenda_. "Polished, professional. Beautiful." Bobby tried to explain that he'd never been happy with that particular 'type', that he'd never felt like himself with any woman other than Alex. That his 'good years' had been all the years he'd had her, any way he could. He tried to explain how lonely it was, being in a relationship with someone who had no idea who he was. Being afraid, with good reason, of showing his true self.

Jimmy didn't get it, and Bobby found himself getting testy.

"I mean Bobby, some of the women you dated… I mean…"

"What, Cap? You mean what? That you couldn't pull tail like that, and that's why you chose Angie? Is that what this is about, Jimmy? You pimping me out to Brenda because you have a hankering for her yourself?"

Jimmy grunted and bristled. "That's offensive. Don't profile me, my boy. I deserve better than that."

"Then do me the same courtesy, Captain."

"I just want you to be happy. And latching yourself to your nursemaid of ten years out of pity or familiarity or a crisis of confidence isn't happiness."

Bobby felt his heart plummet. "Nursemaid?" He felt his voice rising to an outraged squeak. "Is that what you think? Thought? I don't know who I should be more offended for, Alex or myself."

To Jimmy's credit, he seemed to regret his exclamation. "I'm sorry, Bobby. Of course that's not what I meant. But you have to admit that you leaned on her a lot."

_I thought I needed her to do the job. But really we needed each other. And our need for each other outstripped and outlasted the job. Because ultimately, it wasn't about the job._

The words ran through Bobby's head over and over, but he couldn't make his lips move. All the while, Jimmy kept talking. _Too serious… Bourgeois... Plain… Hold you back…_

Bobby shook his head and stood up… he needed to get out of there, before he punched his old Captain, or worse, before what he was saying started making sense. Jimmy's words made Bobby's head spin, especially what he'd murmured in Bobby's ear as he walked the big man out. "Don't mistake familiarity and dependence for intimacy and love."

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** Sorry it's been so long since I posted. I was working on this and several other Xmas-themed fics. Also, it's a really busy time for me for work. But I'm still around! Still enthused about the fandom, still working on my WIPs. Please review!

WORDS: 1987 UPLOADED Saturday, December 25, 2010


	2. FROM EACH ACCORDING TO HIS GIFTS

**A/N 1:** Slight chapter spoilers for: Blind Spot, Frame

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER TWO: FROM EACH ACCORDING TO HIS GIFTS**

Sitting in his car, Bobby cracked a Sprite to ease the queasy feeling in his stomach. As sad as it made him to realise that someone he and Alex both trusted so deeply really didn't know them at all, it made him sadder to know how little Jimmy believed in them. And if Jimmy, with all his wisdom and (let's face it), success and experience with relationships didn't believe in them, did he and Alex have a chance?

As he was sitting, running through his conversation with Deakins to try to find _something_ positive about the conversation, his phone rang. Not Alex's ring, which relieved him, because he wasn't ready to face her yet.

He held up his cell and squinted. DoC. What were they doing calling him? Then he remembered. With a combination of dread, foreboding and toxic hope, he answered. "Goren."

"Bobby!"

"Speaking." It was Gage. A few weeks ago, after a long negotiation had taken place, where various people including Gage's lawyers, his psychiatrist, and numerous others had adjured him to accept his former mentor's request for contact, he had agreed to one phone call. 'Next Tuesday,' he'd said, not realising what day that was. Of course he couldn't have counted on Gage to realise either. 'Ten OK?' The facility psychiatrist's secretary had asked him. 'It's Dr Gage's preference.' 'Sure,' He'd replied. It hadn't occurred to Bobby that it meant 10PM. Which of course it would, because Gage would want to both control the situation, and insert himself into Bobby's personal life.

He'd forgotten all about it.

"Bobby! Don't tell me you forgot about me?"

Of course Gage would guess. He leaned back, suddenly finding his beloved car an uncomfortable casket, resisting his urges to squirm and twitch. "I did," he confessed. He could feel the urge to please and draw approval and encouragement rising in him like bile, but he resisted. When he'd agreed to this call, he'd talked to Alex about it. She'd been disapproving, but ultimately accepting. She'd asked him if he felt a need to protect his old mentor out of deference for his former status or current fragility. His answer had been no. Not any more. "So what is this about?"

"Bobby. Not standing on ceremony, are you? Don't I deserve better? Your mother taught you better."

"Deserve?" He stuttered on the word. "Leave my mother out of this." He shook his head; Gage was right. It wasn't like him to be rude. "Sorry. I don't really want to be doing this."

"Yet here you are."

"Yeah."

"So taciturn. Bobby, my people told me you promised a half hour of your time. Make it worth my while, and I won't bother you again."

"Worth your…" He swallowed, heavily, then said quietly, "Whether or not we speak again has nothing to do with you."

"You know that's not true."

Bobby's irritation at both the men he used to admire began to bubble over. "Listen –"

But Gage interrupted him. "Bobby, Bobby. No need to get on your high horse. We both know that even if your loyalty and empathy failed you, your curiosity would keep you from turning me away."

**o.o.o.o.o**

They chatted about this and that, the FBI, Gage's current treatments. The familiarity of sitting in his car, feeling separate and desolate, discussing psychiatrists with someone he'd loved who'd abandoned him was not lost on Bobby. Gage asked him what he was up to that night, a question that Bobby had answered vaguely, and even in his addled state and over the phone, Gage had sensed the strain in Bobby's voice and pried, without success.

"I want your impressions of Jo," he finally stated. Bobby felt some of his tension ease, now that Gage's real motivation was on the table.

"My impressions? You wrote a book about her, Declan."

"I know, I know. Did you read it?"

Did he read it? "No, of course not," Bobby scoffed.

"I don't believe you." Declan was sulking.

"Well… I have no control over that." It felt good to say those words.

"Bobby…" Now he was wheedling. "Work with me here."

"Work with you?" The thought almost made him laugh. He thought about Jo… the monster he hated and pitied and felt so guilty about, even though he knew her making was not his fault or his responsibility. The product of a monstrous situation that he had been blindly drawn to. No. He was not going to talk about Jo Gage. But he was finally going to talk about Declan. "OK, you want my impressions. I'm not going to talk to you about Jo, but I'll talk to you about you."

And he did. He said everything. Things he had never before allowed himself to think, much less say. About Declan's selfishness, self-centredness. How he was responsible for his wife's suicide, if not by driving her to it then by purposely choosing someone whose instability he could exploit. How he had actively withheld empathy from his own flesh and the woman he'd chosen. How he'd never really thought of Jo as his equal or capable of being such. If he'd ever thought of her at all.

When he finished, there was silence on the line. He was about to hang up, when Declan spoke.

"You see that girl at all? Whatshername, the one who worked with you."

**o.o.o.o.o**

Bobby didn't want to talk about Alex. He really, really didn't want to talk about Alex.

"Alex?"

"What?" Declan's exclamation had been in eerie sync with the mantra in Bobby's head.

"That's her name. Alex Eames. Don't play games with me, Bobby."

"Yes, that's her name. And yes, I see her occasionally."

This, unlike his previous statement about the book, Declan would know was a lie. Because unlike his previous statement, it was.

"Hmmm… Are you fucking her?"

The vulgarity startled him. "That's… none of your business."

"Bobby, you sound like a sixteen year old sapling, defending a crush. Infatuation always did reduce you to a stammering boy." Against his will, Bobby could picture Declan, reed-thin but wiry, waving his arms to punctuate his words. The image hurt his heart, both for what he'd lost in Declan, and what he finally realised he'd never had. "I think it was your father who turned you into a man who has to make sex complicated in order to enjoy it. You should work on your one night stands, Bobby. Call it therapy."

Bobby shook his head, but said nothing. There was really nothing to say to that. The old man was so out of touch, there were no familiar landmarks in his sights.

"You listening?"

"Yeah," he replied wearily. The dashboard clock, which kept time fine but was an hour and a half slow, said they'd been on the phone for 26 minutes.

"What do you think kept her around for so long, Bobby?"

He felt a sense of foreboding, and anxiously watched the seconds tick down, begging them to go faster.

"Who?" he asked with _faux naiveté_.

"You know who. _Her_."

"Alex? I don't know, but I'm not going to talk to you about it."

Declan laughed. "Why do you think you were so drawn to my family, Bobby? So drawn to her? I was surprised, you see, but I finally figured it out. I thought… I mean, I know you were always too weak to resist the crazy ones, so I always expected you to go for Jo. Or Nicole, later. But you held out for the warrior queen on the half-shell. Vulnerable, adrift. A masthead whose bark had shattered itself upon the rocks. Are you exploiting her instability, Bobby? Is she going to go down with your ship?"

As he yanked the phone from his ear and hit the 'END' button, Bobby heard Declan's tinny voice. "We're more alike than you know, Bobby. Think about it!"

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** I know the upcoming resolution may seem a bit quick and pat, but it's _Christmas_. And I don't like long, angsty psychological epics. In my world they don't need a tempering kiln; I believe Goren and Eames's issues can be resolved in an Easy-Bake Oven. Please review!

WORDS: 1407 UPLOADED Saturday, December 25, 2010


	3. FINDING WONDERFUL

**A/N 1:** The Xmas challenge song for this fic was "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year", but I am also inspired by a song from "The King and I" (lyrics below).

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER THREE: FINDING WONDERFUL**

He was thinking about it, even though he didn't want to. Was there a kernel of truth in their words? Gage's, or Jimmy's? Not that they were right, but that he feared they were right? Was this what had been holding him back? An unconscious sense of what was wrong with him and Alex? Was he afraid he was with her out of need, or she him? Afraid that their relationship would get hollowed out by years of affection but no passion? Or that he would destroy her the way Gage had destroyed his family?

He thought about the alternative; the women he'd been with before Alex, imagined life with them. Some of them women he'd loved. Remembered the feeling of emptiness, wrongness, alienation, that he'd felt while he was with them. Imagined those feelings somehow magically disappearing over time. He couldn't.

Then he thought of Gage, and his years alone in an empty house, haunted by and yet oblivious to the ghost of the woman _who'd stayed_. Who'd stuck like glue to him even against her own best interest. Who'd finally admitted defeat and given up in the most final way possible.

He tried to imagine something different from those two things… something happier, more wholesome, more whole.

He couldn't.

**o.o.o.o.o**

He found himself heading towards Alex's neighbourhood in Forest Hills. He wasn't sure what his plan was, but he needed to do _something_ to relieve the conflict: love, rage, need, fear, desire, pity… On the threshold of a future that he _wanted_ but was unsure of, the two most significant men his complicated past had afforded him had added myriad facets, most of them ugly, to muddy his decision.

He didn't pretend that he'd have the courage to wake her up and talk to her about his conflict, but he hoped that somehow, just being in the haven of her demesne would help to clear his head. Although the tension was unbearable, he had learnt enough about himself and how he dealt with pressure and uncertainty in his personal life, that he would regret being hasty, or forcing an escalation.

He shuffled down the hall in her building, and let himself into her apartment with his key, quickly disarming, then re-setting her alarm. Finding himself calming just from the atmosphere, and feeling suddenly a deep exhaustion, he quietly poured himself a stiff bourbon from the bottle on top of her fridge, then settled himself in an armchair in the living room, facing the fireplace. The chair had been turned to accommodate the cheerful tree in the corner, and as a result, the view was no longer of the front door (as it had been the several times they'd made out in it with her straddling his lap), but rather, it faced directly towards the picture of Alex and Joe on their wedding day; the picture she'd recently moved out of her bedroom.

He knew about her and Joe. Their marriage had been by no means perfect. And he didn't kid himself that her dead husband was a perfect man. But he had been simple and straightforward with many good qualities, as had their relationship. And Joe had known how to be with people, with her family. He'd known how to tease Liz, how to jolly along her father and brother, how to charm her mother.

Bobby had watched their wedding video one day when Alex was out. They'd said _I love you_ to each other in their vows. Alex had never said those words to him… in fact, no-one ever had.

The room was cold, but he was bone-tired. As he closed his eyes, he had a fleeting moment of panic, his imagination concocting the scenario that he was dying of frostbite, drifting into a final, comforting sleep.

**o.o.o.o.o**

"The Doctor's half-right, you know," Joe said. For some reason Bobby was back in the cell he'd waited in while Eames thought he was dirty. Only this time, the cell was locked, and he was alone except for her husband standing on the other side of the bars. "She'd never kill herself. But she'd never leave. She's very loyal that way."

"I know. She stayed with you," Bobby snapped, trying to shake off the heavy sluggishness that pervaded him. After a moment, he realised that he was actually in his old body. Tired, out of shape, weighed down by fear for his life and career, and terror that he'd lost Eames.

"She loved me."

"I know," Bobby said morosely. "Even though you cheated on her."

"Yep, I did that. But only once or twice. And you know full well that it's never just one person's fault." Bobby did know that, but he hated hearing it from this man. "You know as well as anyone, that she can be a stone cold bitch when she wants to be. She's an expert at slicing and dicing a guy's manhood and self-esteem, then punishing with silence while he grovels. Or she just ties him to the back of her car and drags him around until he's good and tenderized."

Bobby wanted to protest, even though the words had a kernel of truth. But his mouth was slow and sticky. "But she never leaves," Joe continued. "That's the one thing she never does, our Alex."

He finally found his voice. "That's bullshit. First of all, she's not your Alex any more. Second, it's really petty for a husband to tar and feather his wife for the way she reacts when she's _hurt_. Third, your words sound rehearsed. Is it a repeat of the pillow talk you used on your girlfriends?"

The voice outside the cell scoffed. Bobby couldn't bring himself to look closely at Alex's dead husband; he could tell, though, that he was dressed in his wedding tuxedo. "Girlfriend. Although she was more of a bunny. And fourth?"

Bobby drew himself up to his full height. He was an inch taller than Joe Dutton. "Fourth, isn't that the crux of it? You _wanted_ her to leave. You wanted out, but you wanted her to be the heavy."

"Are you any better?"

"I never cheated on her. In fact, I…"

Dutton spoke over him. "Yeah yeah, you've been celibate for four years. Do you think you deserve a medal? You turned from her too, when she needed you. You always thought of yourself first and foremost. You always gave yourself an out. In fact, you resented the fact that she cared so much about you, and sometimes you punished her for it."

"You're talking to yourself." Bobby's words covered his true feelings; the man's words had shaken him. He _had_ done those things.

"I'm talking to you."

"Yes, you're right, it did happen that way, in the past. But unlike you, I learned from my mistakes. I actually want to be with her, in every way. I'm not going to get bored or fed up with her. I love her. I realised what I did wrong and I'm not going to do it again. Unlike you."

"I didn't get the chance."

"Yeah, well, that's not my problem."

**O.O.O.O.O**

Bobby awoke with a start and stared, disoriented, into the dim room for a few moments before realising where he was. The room was still chilly, the empty glass sat balanced on his knee, barely in his grasp, and the happy couple grinned vacantly from their place on the mantel.

But everything else was different. As he reviewed flashes of the dream he'd had, he felt a painful but wonderful opening in his chest. _He loved her. He was almost certain she loved him_. And he was capable of learning from his mistakes. As was she. He wasn't Joe Dutton, and he certainly wasn't Declan Gage. She wasn't boring, or cold. Their love wasn't bloodless, it was warm and passionate. He didn't feel comfortable with her family, but he felt at home with _her._

There were reasons why they shouldn't work, and few why they should. But it wasn't about a pros and cons list. Everything Deakins, Gage, and Dutton had said to him had just been a mirror of all his insecurities; all the reasons why it wasn't worth it to try. But true commitment meant looking past reasons and making a choice. They'd been choosing each other for ten years; her more than him. He'd _wanted_ to choose her, _known_ that it was the right thing, but he'd been too weighed down by his reasons. It was time for that to come to an end.

He suddenly felt an overwhelming longing to see Alex, to touch her, to finally join with her. He stood and tiptoed to her bedroom door, easing it open planning to slip into bed with her and tell her everything that was in his heart.

The bed was empty.

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** Please review!

_**Something Wonderful**_

_This is a man who thinks with his heart_

_His heart is not always wise_

_This is a man who stumbles and falls_

_But this is a man who tries_

_This is a man you'll forgive and forgive_

_And help and protect as long as you live_

_He will not always say_

_What you would have him say_

_But now and then he'll say_

_Something wonderful_

_The thoughtless things he'll do_

_Will hurt and worry you_

_Then all at once he'll do_

_Something wonderful_

_He has a thousand dreams _

_That won't come true_

_You know that he believes in them _

_And that's enough for you_

_You'll always go along_

_Defend him when he's wrong_

_And tell him when he's strong_

_He is wonderful_

_He'll always need your love_

_And so he'll get your love_

_A man who needs your love_

_Can be wonderful_

WORDS: 1687 UPLOADED Sunday, December 26, 2010


	4. BUT I'M THE LAST

**A/N 1:** Wasn't there an episode where Eames talked about hiding boys under her bed? Chapter spoilers for: that episode.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER FOUR: BUT I'M THE LAST**

_Thud._

Alex awoke, disoriented and a little panicked, in her old bedroom. _What had woken her up?_ She lay still, trying to shake off the unease that accompanied being roused suddenly after falling asleep, a bit drunk, in the room she'd grown up in. As she acclimated to her surroundings, the sounds of her parents' house delineated themselves; the creak of the radiator, the distant hum of the refrigerator, the faint rumble of her father's snores, and…

_Thud._

The panic in her belly re-asserted itself. She fumbled at the bedside table for a light, but froze when the sound came again.

_Thud._

_Thud._

The sound was coming from outside. She quietly slid out from under the blankets and comforter into the chilly room, and padded barefoot to the window.

She couldn't help it… the sight before her (two storeys below her, actually) made her smile. Bobby, looking so dapper in his great coat and gloves, was hucking snowballs at her window. Badly, it appeared, given the hunks of snow on the flower box, the wall, and the shutters. She quickly threw up the sash and leaned out. "Bobby, what are you doing here?" She whispered through her grin.

He shrugged and threw up his arms. "I n– I uh, just wanted to see you," he replied, laughing.

"Are you drunk?"

He looked up at her and squinted. "I don't think so," he said solemnly. "I just," he waved his arms again, "Wanted to make sure the window was unlocked before I came up." At that, he grabbed the trellis with both hands and shook it as if to test its soundness.

"No, no, no, don't you dare Bobby Goren," she squealed, fluttering her hands in her huge white flannel nightie as if to shoo him away, then continued, quieter, "Come around to the front. I'll be down in a sec."

Shutting the window with a flourish, she almost missed the victorious look that lit up his face.

**o.o.o.o.o**

The panic she'd felt upon waking was replaced by milder – yet equally disconcerting – butterflies. Bobby looked happy, and he'd come all this way to see her… so it couldn't be something bad, right? The fear that had flitted through her consciousness, just as she was falling asleep earlier, was at the undercurrent of finality of Bobby's goodbye tonight.

The rest of the evening had been OK. A bit lonely without Bobby. It had bothered her that he'd chosen to leave; she couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't happy with her, with the choice they'd made. A feeling which had been amplified that night, when she realised that dealing with her family might have been way more than Bobby had signed up for. A shame, because they were so much more tolerable with him by her side.

As she tiptoed through the dark, sleeping, chilly house, she noticed the time – _2:10AM. What had he been doing all night?_ He had to be drunk. Thank god he'd made it here safely. But in the jumble of emotions – irritation, anxiety, foreboding – beneath them all was yearning to be with him, and joy at the prospect of seeing him again. She loved him. It was as simple as that.

She saw the big, dark outline of his body through the frosted glass as she flipped the locks as quietly as possible. When the door swung to, Bobby pushed through in a rush and when his arms tightened around her, she felt the sensation of air beneath her feet as he swept her up in a tight embrace. His skin was cold and wet as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, and a few snowflakes dotted the salt-and-pepper curls she sank her fingers into. "Hi baby," she whispered against his cheekbone as they held each other tightly. She'd never used that endearment before – had never used any with him, as a matter of fact – but the word felt right sliding past her lips.

"Hmmm, Alex," he murmured, "I missed you."

She let out a soft, throaty laugh. "It's only been a few hours, baby." She felt deliciously vulnerable, suspended barefoot in her nightie in his arms. Mingled with his natural, intoxicating scent, Bobby smelled of the cold, woodsmoke, a hint of the cologne she liked and only a touch of liquor. Alex could feel his pulse where her cheek pressed against his throat, and the rumble in his chest as he made tiny sounds of pleasure. Though separated by several layers of clothing, she felt her body reacting to the heat and hardness of his.

"It seemed like longer." Still holding her, Bobby reached back and latched the door, then turned and tiptoed – not very quietly – towards the stairs.

She wiggled in his arms. "Hey, what are you doing?" She whispered.

He tilted his neck to look at her. "Taking you to your room," he said, his calm, deliberate assertiveness stirring her body's reaction. "It's this way, isn't it?"

"_No wait, Bobby…_"

Was what she thought, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to be angry at herself for her passivity, but the truth was _she wanted this_. Whatever had borne Bobby back to her, made him storm the fortress of her parents' house, represented a turning point for them. She wanted to give herself over to whatever had been stirred in him.

At the top landing she found her voice. "Bobby, we have to be soooo quiet," she whispered as he toed off his shoes and tiptoed down the upstairs hallway. "My dad is a very light sleeper."

Bobby gave her a smouldering look. "I can be quiet, Eames. Can you?"

**o.o.o.o.o**

"What?" She asked.

"I love you," he whispered.

All of a sudden it was just too much. This perfect interlude, after living on tenterhooks for weeks over the state of their relationship, was too much. Struggling to contain the overflow of emotion, she barely registered him trying to withdraw from her… she instinctively tightened her grip on his hand. "Bobby… I love you too."

O.O.O.O.O

Bobby started to laugh. Not a little chuckle or sardonic bark, but a full, exquisite belly laugh. Alex instantly came to herself enough to cover his mouth with her hand. "Shhhh! Be happy later!" Her harsh words were softened somewhat by her own chuckle, which she somehow managed to keep to the lowest decibels.

Bobby wanted to jump up and shout, to swing her around and kiss her all over, to sing to the heavens his joy and fulfillment. But he merely mumbled into her little fingers, "Whatever you say, sweetheart," kissing and tickling them with his tongue.

"Listen, we have to be so careful. When we get back on the bed, we'll move at the same time so it'll sound like it's just one person moving."

His little Eames, so practical. Moments ago she'd been completely undone, now she was all business. "Wow, you've really got a system going here…" He wasn't teasing.

"Bobby, just do it."

Which made him _really_ not want to. "But we didn't do that before."

"I know," she said ruefully.

As they both arose on shaky legs and tip-toed to either side of the bed, he heard a door open down the hall. Alex froze, then quicker than he thought she could possibly move after what they just did, she threw on her nightie and gestured to Bobby to get down. 'On the floor?' he mouthed incredulously, and she nodded.

When the knock came, she was already at her door, but she waited a few moments before touching the knob. She turned it quietly, and stuck her nose through the crack.

"Everything OK, Lexi?" Her father asked, his resonant voice echoing through he whispered.

"Everything's fine, Dad. I just fell out of bed. Sorry I woke you." Believable in its simplicity, the lie slid easily off her tongue.

"I never get used to waking up in a strange bed." They shared a laugh over their similar experience. She seemed about to bid him goodnight and close the door when he continued. "How about Bobby? Is everything OK with him?"

Bobby froze and held his breath. Alex looked askance at him as if trying to figure out if the lie could be salvaged. "What?"

"Don't make him sleep under the bed, Lexi, he's not one of those boys you used to sneak up here. Sleep tight. See you both in the morning."

**o.o.o.o.o**

He should have felt sheepish being caught by the father of his recent secret girlfriend and longtime work partner _in flagrante delicto_ in the man's own house, but instead he felt – well, there was no other word for it – a bit cocky.

He felt badly for Alex, though. She was quiet and subdued the next morning as they both dressed in her little room. As promised, he got a good look at her beautiful body as she slipped on her clothing, but he took little pleasure in it (little, not none) given the awkwardness of the situation.

Knowing that they wouldn't really talk until they got away, and needing to reassure himself that they were OK, he went to her as she shuffled, head low, towards the door.

"Hey," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Merry Christmas. Are we OK?"

She looked up, surprised, and her worried face broke into a huge smile. She touched his collar in a playful, desultory way that aroused him far more than it should have, and said huskily, "OK? We're way better than OK, don'tcha think?" Then she stepped up on her tip-toes and kissed him. They'd kissed many times before, but this kiss was magnificent. He could feel in it all the love and devotion that she had been longing to give him, and now he accepted it, and gave his own in return.

"Merry Christmas back," she whispered as they exited the room.

They descended the stairs expecting to run the gauntlet of Alex's family, but only her father sat waiting for them at the kitchen table.

Johnny Eames was silent as he served them breakfast from a warming pan in the oven, and as they ate, he poured himself a coffee and sat down. "Couldn't stay away, huh Goren?" he asked gruffly.

Bobby refused to be intimidated, even with Alex's father reverting to his last name. "No sir," he said, trying not to sound _too_ smug or impudent.

The older man grunted. "You know, you're not the first fella to try climbing the trellis to my oldest daughter's room." He stared balefully at Bobby over the rim of his cup, while Alex squirmed and murmured her disapproval.

"I know sir," he said. He smiled at Alex, remembering the stories of her escapades as a horny, sneaky teenager. "But I'm the last."

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! And Happy Holidays!

WORDS: 1855 UPLOADED Monday, June 4, 2012


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